Rise Of A Champion
by Satatchi
Summary: Fallon Hawke was at Ostagar. She knew what treachery went on there. But she never got a chance to voice it as she was rushed off to The Free Marches. Watch as Hawke goes from Street Scum to the most important person in Kirkwall. Fem!Hawke/Fenris


_**A/N: Hokay, kiddies. Story time :) This is a new one that I made up during my free time at school. So here it is. I don't have a Beta, so just point out any mistakes you see please! If you see Fallon being to as Thaina, it's because I changed her name in the middle of writing this and and probably didn't catch all the Thaina's in there XD So just point them out so I can fix that too! **_

_**Fallon (or Phallon) is a Irish name meaning Grandchild of a Noble or Grandchild of a Ruler. Seemed fitting, given Hawke's revealed lineage in the game! Please enjoy :) **_

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><p>A certain gloom settled over the camp at Ostagar. The kings men hurried about the establishment as they barked orders. Elven servants and human servants alike scattered when overseers came looking for them. Fallon Hawke stood next to the mages tent, her pale face shining in the low torchlight. Her younger brother, Carver, stood next to her shifting from foot to foot. Blue eyes studied him and suddenly she slapped the back of his head, earning a yelp from the younger man.<p>

"What was that for." He hissed, tenderly holding his head where she had hit him. "Y'know, sis, it hurts when you're slapped in the head with armor."

"Your nervousness does no good for the men, Brother." She replied harshly, and then her face softened. "Stop fretting, Carver. Everything will be perfectly fine. We're here to stop this blight, and I wont see it end without you." Hawke put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Besides, mother would have my hide if I didn't bring her precious baby back to her." She snickered.

Carver grinned, shoving her hand off his shoulder playfully.

"I'm sure she'd be just fine without me. It's you who will have to be careful, lest the eldest of the family falls in battle."

The dark haired woman threw her head back and scoffed.

"Please! Not even a mighty ogre could fell me!"

A tall man with bright silver armor stood by the huge fiery pyre that dominated the center of the camp. Fallon dismissed her brother, telling him to go prepare for what's to come. She watched him walk off and smirked when she heard all the mumbled curses to Andraste and her groom, The Maker. Shaking her head, she quietly stood by the man and stared into the flames, much like he was doing then.

"Ho there, Duncan. Everything alright, Warden?" Hawke asked the rouge. Duncan looked up, clearly surprised at the sudden noise. He hadn't heard her come up. With a nod, he turned back to the fire, drawn back to his time of sentiment and thinking.

"Hawke." He heard his tenor voice say as she turned to leave. Sighing, the woman looked back at the Grey Warden. He looked… sad, as if he knew what was to become of them. It was obvious that the King had a plan, and a good one at that. Then again, Cailan always seemed to have a plan, appearing confident when it actually was all lost.

"Yes, Duncan?"

"Do you believe there's hope?" Came the quiet inquiry. She stood there frozen, the question to her aback. Believe there's hope? She wondered. For what? To win this blighted war?

Still confused, she nodded anyway.

"There's always hope, Warden. Even though it doesn't stare you in the face."

The sorrowful man nodded.

"Sound reasoning."

Fal walked away from the Warden-Commander, confused. This conversation had only proved to give her more concerns than she had before. The warrior was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost walked into a ruined wall. There was a chuckle from close by and she turned her brilliant sapphire eyes to the source. Standing at the top of one of the stone ramps was a woman with bright red hair and impish features.

"Yes?" Hawke asked, slightly peeved that she was caught unguarded. The woman chuckled again as she slowly walked down the walkway.

"I would have never guessed a warrior of your standing would be so… dreamy." Came the richly accented voice. "It intrigues me."

Hawke blushed, something she hadn't done since she was young. The woman walked fluidly to her side, watching her with intent green eyes.

"My name is Rowan Mahariel." The redhead bowed slightly. As she bent over, Hawk could see the tips of her pointed ears show though her hair. When she stood back up, however, the pointed tips of skin were hidden from view by a set of braids that framed her face. Her slanted eyes were wise, that much was certain.

"Hawke." She replied back. "Fallon Hawke."

Just as Hawke had said that a man with blond hair walked up behind Rowan. He put his hand on her shoulder and nodded to Thaina.

"Sorry, Mistress Hawke. I need to steal our newest Warden away." The cheeky tone of his voice made the swordswomen smirk.

"Of course, Ser Alistair." She replied mockingly. They had gotten to know each other over the few weeks they were camped at Ostagar. It was a sorrowful place, the once great lookout of the Grey Wardens. But that was long past, before Cailan's fathers' father had disbanded the Order.

The other man made a face of disgust at the word 'ser'. Hawke knew he hated being anybody but just plain old Alistair and the face he made when she called him 'ser' was priceless, at least to her. Leading the new Warden away, he looked back at her and winked. Fal shook her head and worked her way toward her tent. It was a tiny cloth pavilion next to the other swordsman's quarters.

She wandered by the blacksmiths, thrown back into deep thought, when she heard shouting. The warrior looked up to see one of the men physically beating one of the elven slaves. Slavery angered Hawke to no extent, but to see then brutally punished for crimes that weren't sane made her blood boil.

"Oi!" Her powerful voice boomed throughout the small camp. The men-at-arms looked up, his face contorted into a sneer. Then he saw Hawke in all her splendor stalking up to him, her face like a thundercloud. He gulped, watching as she knelt down and carefully examined the elf's wounds. When she was done, her ice eyes focused on him. It was a glare that could have scared the taint right out of a Genlock. His mouth opened and closed, little choking noises came out, but nothing resembling coherent words seemed to form.

"You do not beat people." She murmured venomously into the man's ear. "Especially not slaves. What would happen if, just because you were an elf, I started beating you right here?" She took hold of his tunic and shoved him away. "Now get out of my sight before I decide that I want to try that theory." "Impressive." A voice sounded from beyond the shadows.

Blighted useless torchlight. Hawke thought, trying to see into the shadows. A long haired blond man emerged from the dark, his golden armor glittering in the low light. The dark haired woman gasped and quickly bowed, giving her respects to the King. Cailan shook his head and gestured for her to rise.

"I really don't like it when people bow." He admitted with a smile. "It makes me feel… important."

"But you are important, Your Majesty." She replied with a smirk. "Or do you see yourself as not?"

The King snorted and helped the small elven girl to her feet. She instantly started to tremble when she caught sight of the King.

"M-My Lord." She bowed shakily, her fair skin already turning a light shade of blue. Hawke's forgotten anger welled up inside of her again. The small girl fell to the ground as she tripped.

"Come on, love." Fal said quietly, kneeling down to pick her up. "If you'll excuse us, Your Majesty."

"Of course, Mistress Hawke."

Scowling she shook her head.

"Mistress Hawke is my mother, I am just Hawke."

The King looked at her with a bemused expression, but he nodded.

"Good luck on the battlefield then, Hawke."

While she was walking to her tent, the small woman she carried in her arms died. Hawke just stood there, staring numbly at the body. Death was no stranger to her, she had stared her old friend in the face many a time. But this was different. The cold body of the small child still rested in her arms when her brother found her.

"Siste-." He stopped once he saw her. He looked at her and frowned as he took in the dead body in her arms.

"She died." She said hauntedly. "She died while I was carrying her to my tent." Her eyes threatened tears. "I couldn't do anything to save her Carver. She was so helpless, so timid." So precious.

Carver studied his older sibling. He's only seen her broken down like this one other time, when their father had passed away. She had gone weeks without eating, sleeping, or talking. He couldn't bear to see her that way ever again, especially not now. Moving to her side, he took the small, malnourished body from her.

"Go to bed, Fal. You need your rest for tomorrow."


End file.
